


In A Minute, Everything Can Change

by PyroKlepto



Category: The Luck of the Irish (2001)
Genre: AU, Christmas, Ireland, Irish, Kyle Johnson - Freeform, Leprechauns, Seamus McTiernan - Freeform, The Luck of the Irish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 17:45:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5549654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PyroKlepto/pseuds/PyroKlepto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seamus McTiernan lost a bet six years ago that caused him to end up trapped on the shores of Lake Erie. Six years of longing to return to his home, Ireland. Six years alone, unable to travel too far - a punishment almost worse than death for his wandering spirit. But a lot can change in six years; people and their hearts especially.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic I started writing for Grigiocuore as a Christmas gift. It's based off a discussion she and I had about the old 2001 film, The Luck Of The Irish, and our precious Leprechaun, Seamus McTiernan. You don't really have to have seen the film to understand what's going on, though it might help. Enjoy!

The shores of Lake Erie were never the loveliest of places. But today, it was a rainy November day, and everything was overcast in grey as ice-cold droplets of water fell from the sky. A strong wind blew, kicking up waves in the waters of the lake.

And a lone figure walked alongside the shore, leather coat wrapped tightly around his lean frame. 

Seamus McTiernan hated it here. He hated everything about it; the dirty and polluted waters, the gritty sand, the lack of green and growing things… most of all, he hated that it was not his home; Eire, Ireland, the Emerald Isle…

Sometimes, on rainy days - like this - Seamus left the small shack he stayed in and wandered alongside the shore. The pollution was awful and he could almost smell it; but sometimes, if he shut his eyes tightly and focused his mind, he could transport himself back to bright green fields, cliffsides along the ocean, and the cool clean Irish rain on his skin…

But then he would open his eyes and find himself on the same accursed shore in the same accursed country.

It had been six years since he had lost his bet with that Kyle boy. Six years, he had been trapped here next to a lake, fallen prey to the lad’s tricks.

It was a disgrace. _He was a disgrace_. Seamus McTiernan, fear dearg and one of the cleverest leprechauns in Ireland, had been fooled by a _child_.

And Seamus’ fate was set in stone. He would be trapped here next to a lake he had come to despise within his first week of living here forever. There was no way for him to leave. He had tried everything in his power, and none of it was good enough.

So that was how he found himself standing in the November rain and watching the wind throw waves together on the surface of the lake. And an ache took hold of his heart as his mind wandered to Ireland, and how he missed her so. 

What he would give to return. He would even give up his dream of becoming king, if only he could step upon the Emerald Isle’s shores once again. 

But that was impossible, and he needed to make do with what he had… which wasn’t much.

Lost in thought, Seamus didn’t hear the footsteps until they were right behind him. Then he spun around, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, just in case he needed to fight an attacker off. He preferred to use persuasion and charm to dissuade anyone who confronted him - as policemen often did, wondering why such a strange man spent so much time on the beach - but he could stand his own in a fight.

Instead of a human, he saw a scrappy-looking mutt; dark fur matted by the rain, soulful brown eyes, long limbs, and pointed ears. He wasn’t entirely sure of the breed, but it reminded him of a smaller version of the wolfhounds he had often seen back home.

“Where are your owners, boyo?” Seamus asked, frowning. “It’s not a day for wandering.” He glanced up at the stormy sky.

But he knew the answer. He could see the dog’s ribs through its fur - it didn’t have owners, that much was certain. He tried to ignore the little voice in his head, turning away from the dog and staring out over the lake again. 

Then he heard a scuffling sound and looked down to see the dog sitting beside him, nearly leaning against his leg. It didn’t bark or whine, it just sat there, looking at the water as well. It seemed to sense Seamus’ gaze and lifted its head to meet his eyes.

Seamus sighed. “Right then.” He nodded his head in the direction of the shack he lived in. “C’mon. Let’s get you a bit warmer.” 

The dog followed at his side the entire walk back ‘home’. It was a humble abode; there was a small stove that had been there to begin with, plus a few pieces of furniture Seamus had managed to salvage - a small table, a chair, a twin-sized mattress and some blankets in the corner. He had a rope tied from one wall to the other for a makeshift clothesline, and a shelf he had made himself out of driftwood. He kept various odds and ends he found there. He also had various types of food, most of it as long-lasting as he could keep it. Fortunately for himself, there was a shop close enough to the lake that he could go and buy food. He couldn’t go any further into town than that store. He had plenty of money with him that he had saved from his various stints dancing at festivals, so that wasn’t a problem either, fortunately. 

He kept everything as clean as he could - just because he lived in a shack on a beach near a polluted lake did not mean he had to look like it. 

“Stay there,” he told the dog. Shockingly enough, it listened and sat down next to the door. 

Seamus retrieved a few towels - a family had left them on the beach one summer, and since they were just lying there, Seamus had taken them (he needed them more anyway) - from the shelf and knelt down next to the mutt, drying it off. 

Then he took a few cans of minestrone soup and poured them into a dish, which he pushed in front of the dog. “I need to go on another shopping trip, boyo. That’s all I can spare for the moment.” 

It blinked up at him, then lowered its head and lapped up the soup. Seamus took the opportunity to inspect the dog a little closer. ‘It’ was a ‘he’, and seemed to be healthy enough, besides slightly undernourished and dirty.

He clearly didn’t have owners, or they had abandoned him - Seamus found that to be the more likely option. A shame, really. If a person couldn’t take care of another living being, they shouldn’t be allowed to own or have a living being in their custody in the first place.

Of course… Seamus didn’t really have anyone either. Friends or family, that is. Especially not here… 

Tilting his head, Seamus regarded the dog again. He had finished off the soup and sat patiently, tail wagging slightly. 

“Would you like to stay with me, pup?” Seamus asked. He didn’t really expect a response, but he did notice that the dog’s tail wagged a little faster.

“It’s settled then, you can live here too,” Seamus remarked. “It’s not too fancy, but it’s home. Now… what shall we name you…” While he thought, he retrieved a few spare blankets from the shelf and made a nest in the corner beside his bed, so that the dog had a place to sleep. Then he snapped his fingers, remembering a tale from his country. “How about Cúchulainn, the name of a hero?” 

The dog barked, tilting its head and wagging its tail. Seamus laughed a bit - and realised this was the first time he had either laughed or smiled in a long while. 

“Very well then. Welcome home, Cúchulainn.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kyle is having second thoughts about a few things.

“Russell?”

Kyle, lying on the bed, turned his face towards his friend, who was at the desk scrawling something down on a sheet of paper. Probably homework; his English professor had assigned a long essay and it was due right before Christmas break.

“Yeah?” Russell glanced over.

“I’ve been thinking…” Kyle sat up and grabbed a rubber basketball from the floor, which he began to throw through the hoop hanging on the door of their room.

“About what? Can’t it wait ‘til I’ve finished this?” Russell raised an eyebrow. 

“I guess… could I just talk aloud though?” 

Russell sighed. “Fine. What are you thinking about?”

Kyle continued throwing hoops. “So, you remember a few years ago, when I found out all that stuff about my mom being a leprechaun and stuff? And I–”

“Kyle, your mom and grandpa being leprechauns doesn’t mean you are suddenly going to stop being a whiz at basketball,” Russell said absently.

Kyle frowned. “What? No. That’s not what I’m thinking about. You didn’t let me finish.”

When Russell said nothing, Kyle took that as a sign to keep going. “And I was thinking about the fear dearg, the dancer - Seamus McTiernan.”

He paused to take a breath, only to have Russell spin around in his chair to stare at him. “Kyle, you banished him. He can’t come back to mess with you or your family anymore. You shouldn’t be worrying about that.”

“I’m not,” Kyle said, rolling his eyes. “I’m not worrying about that. What I’m thinking about is that maybe I was too harsh on him.”

Russell’s eyes went wide. “Are you _serious_? He was going to, like, take over Ireland and enslave your grandpa or something.”

“Hear me out.” Kyle threw one last hoop and then sat back down on the bed, looking at Russell. “He doesn’t belong here. And let’s be honest, it was kinda cruel to banish him to Cleveland forever.”

“Cruel? Kyle - _he wanted to take over an entire country_. He was crazy!” Russell’s eyes seemed to beg Kyle to see reason.

“I could have made the bet anything I wanted,” Kyle pointed out. “It would have been just as easily to say that, if I won, he wasn’t to cause trouble ever again and send him on his way. At least he wouldn’t have been trapped anywhere.”

“Have you gone crazy?” Russell asked. “Did you take up those stupid seniors on their offer to sneak us beer or something? You really should know better.”

“I’m not drunk, Russ!” Kyle retorted, rolling his eyes. “Look, Ireland was everything to him. Do you really think it’s fair to force him to stay in Cleveland forever when it would have been very easy to just tell him never to cause mischief again?”

“I do think it’s fair, because he was a jerk,” Russell retorted, reaching for the can of Sprite next to him on the desk.

Kyle made a noise of frustration. “Okay, fine. But I’m going to go find him.”

Russell choked on his soda. “Are you serious? No!”

“You can’t stop me. Either you’re going to help me, or I’ll go by myself, but I have to find him,” Kyle replied decisively. “I’ve been thinking about this for days, Russell. I think I made a mistake and I want to try and fix it.” 

“We’re in college, you can’t just go running off before finals,” Russell pointed out. 

“Christmas break is in a week and a half. I’ll wait ‘til then,” Kyle said. “But I am going to Cleveland. The least I can do is apologise, if I can’t fix what I did. I think I can though - I’m the one who made the terms, I should be able to change them, right?”

Russell ignored him. “Yeah, and after you apologise, he’ll probably, like, curse you or something. Or try and steal your lucky coin again.”

“I’ll leave it in my backpack,” Kyle said. “So are you coming or not?”

“I can’t. I told my parents I’d be home right when Christmas break ended,” Russell said. And it was the truth; he wasn’t making it up. “Otherwise I would. Be careful, okay?”

Kyle absentmindedly reached up to touch the gold coin hanging around his neck, thinking back to when he found out just what significance it had. “Don’t worry. I will.”

 

A week and a half later, Kyle found himself walking through the streets of Cleveland. The first snow had fallen only a day or two earlier, and he found himself shivering in spite of his coat. He knew he wouldn’t find Seamus here in town; he had to go down to Lake Erie. That had been the bet. If Seamus lost, he went to the lake and stayed there.

As Kyle stepped onto the sands of the shores of Lake Erie, he became even more convinced that making that bet - at least the way he worded it - had been harsh to say the least.

He walked along the shoreline for what felt like several hours, but was only really one. Seeing no one but an elderly fisherman, he moved on. 

On his way back, he came across a small store. It was nearer to the beach than the rest of the buildings in town. Kyle walked toward it and through the door, wondering if he might have any luck here. 

A man was wiping off the counter. Kyle approached. “Excuse me?”

The man looked up. “Yes?”

“Do you work here?” 

“Yes, I’m the proprietor,” the man replied. “The name’s Smitty. How can I help you?” 

Kyle looked around the store for a moment, taking in the small variety of food and other items. “Yeah. I’m looking for a man who probably lives near here. He has dark hair, blue eyes, an Irish accent…” 

“Oh, yeah, I know him,” Smitty said. “He comes in here every so often; looks a bit bedraggled usually. I think he’s a bum or something. Y’know. Doesn’t have a place to live. He always has money though, so who knows.”

“Do you know where I could find him?” Kyle asked, hope sparking in his chest.

“Like I said, I don’t know if he has a place to live,” Smitty replied, scratching his head. “But quite a few people who come in here say they see him down on the beach. One time someone said they saw a light on in this old shed down there; been abandoned for ages, but he might stay there sometimes.”

“Thank you, sir,” Kyle said. Smitty nodded, but Kyle was already out the door. 

He didn’t have to walk too far in the direction Smitty had pointed before he saw a shack. It looked to be in pretty good shape for something that had allegedly been abandoned for a while. There were no lights visible, but the closer he got, Kyle could swear he heard humming inside.

He stopped outside the door and drew in a deep breath. Then he reached out, and knocked.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which what can only be described as a Christmas miracle occurs.

“Cúchulainn.” Seamus nudged the dog with his foot. “C’mon, boyo, wake up. If you go to the shop with me, someone might throw you a treat.”

The dog made a low half-groaning, half-whining sound and rolled over in the nest of towels and spare blankets he slept in. 

“Aye, you’re tired. So am I. But neither of us can sleep the day away,” Seamus replied. “You’re welcome to stay here, of course. I’m leaving though, soon as I make me breakfast.”

Technically, it wasn’t breakfast - a pocketwatch he had acquired that still told the correct time told him it was noon. But he had only just now woke up. (And besides, he didn’t have much else in his stock of food besides Lucky Charms cereal, a renowned breakfast food that he quite honestly ate all the time, regardless of the meal.)

Seamus poured himself a bowl of the cereal and frowned when it emptied. It was his last box. He hoped the shop had it in stock - the last time he had been in, they had been out of the cereal. Fortunately he had still had some squirreled away in his shack.

The moment the last colourful marshmallow landed in the bowl, Cúchulainn stepped out of bed and stared up at Seamus with soulful eyes. Seamus raised his eyebrows and glanced down and sideways at the dog. “Oh, no, this is mine. I’ll be getting you some proper food at the shop later.”

He started to eat the cereal dry - he couldn’t keep milk here, it spoiled too quickly, since he didn’t have a means to keep it cool. The food tasted just as amazing without it though, so Seamus didn’t mind too terribly much.

What he did mind was the fact that Cúchulainn continued to watch him eat. Seamus could practically feel the pleading gaze, even when he wasn’t facing the dog. Finally, he shook his head and took a handful of the cereal, putting it on the ground beside Cúchulainn. “Fine, then, you sweet-talking mutt. But that’s all you’re getting.” 

Though he couldn’t help but smile, despite pretending to be irritated.

While he ate, Seamus hummed the tune of one of the reels he had often danced to, even before he declared himself the Saint of the Step and made a living of sorts out of it. He had always danced. Of course, all beings like him had a knack for dancing - Feyfolk adored festive activities such as that - but he had always been one of the best, with a more fiery passion for it than the rest. 

He stepped through the doorway of his mind and slipped away into his own world - the world he loved so much - wrapped in music and memories. 

So lost he was that he nearly fell over when a knocking at the door startled him back to reality. He almost dropped the bowl of Lucky Charms - which was half-empty now, as he had been absentmindedly eating while he dreamed - but caught himself before he could.

Cúchulainn’s ears perked up and he stood up, alert and staring at the door. He didn’t growl or bark, but he was very clearly in defence mode. 

Seamus glanced down at his dog, then back at the door, trying to make a decision. Finally, he set his bowl down and straightened his leather jacket a bit. Whoever it was, they couldn’t be much trouble. He had been living here for years without too many run-ins with authorities. If it came down to it, he could most likely charm them into leaving him be. 

So he walked over to the door and opened it.

There stood a tall young man, wearing a thick coat - probably to protect from the cold air. And he was nervous, for whatever reason; Seamus could practically feel the lad’s anxiety hanging in the air. And something else… the strange sense that he knew this boy from somewhere. 

“What can I do for you, boyo?” Seamus asked. He heard claws clicking and knew that Cúchulainn had walked across the shack to stand by his side. A bit of warmth blossomed in his chest at that; a mixture of pride and comfort.

“It’s, um…” The boy glanced away for a moment, raking a hand through his hair. “It’s more… what I can do for you.”

Seamus raised both eyebrows and tilted his head just slightly, more than a little perplexed. “Ah, well, I’m afraid you can’t sell me anything. As you can see, I live in a shack on the beach. I’ve only money for necessities.” He started to shut the door.

He heard the young man draw in a deep, quick breath and then speak in a rush. “My name is Kyle Johnson. I’m the reason you’re here on this beach. And I want to fix that.” 

Seamus froze in place, the door nearly shut. He briefly pondered shutting it all the way - he knew that none of this was a trick, the man outside really was Kyle Johnson; that was why he seemed familiar - but instead opened it again. 

Kyle stood outside looking evne more nervous than before. Seamus fixed him with a steely gaze, silent for several moments before saying levelly, “Do you now.”

“Yes,” Kyle replied, standing up a little straighter. “My side of the bet wasn’t really fair. I’m just sorry it took me this long to realise it.”

“Oh, you’re sorry, ai?” Seamus said, laughing a short laugh. “A lot of good that does, boyo. Why don’t you run along home and leave me be, seeing as how you’ve done enough already.”

He spoke tough, but if he was honest… he harboured a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, the boy hadn’t come to gloat. Maybe he really had come to set Seamus free.

“At least listen to me for a minute,” Kyle said, sounding just a wee bit desperate. 

Seamus paused, thinking this over, and finally regarded Kyle. “Go on then. Speak your piece.”

“All I had to do was tell you that you couldn’t bother me or anyone else again,” Kyle said. “I didn’t need to banish you here too; you don’t belong here. I’m sorry. I want to change the bet, so that you have freedom again.”

A silence fell upon them. Seamus had no response at first. Part of him knew he should be haggling, trying to get some sort of upper hand… but all he wanted was to go back to Ireland… forget the damned O’Reilly family, forget their damned lucky gold, forget it all. None of it was worth staying here on the accursed shores of this disgusting lake.

“Can I do that?”

Seamus returned to reality at Kyle’s question. “If you mean it in your heart, you can. You were the one to make the bet, so you have the power.” He refused to let any emotion show in his voice - such as the hope that kept creeping further and further into his heart.

“I do.” Kyle met Seamus’ eyes for the first time, with an odd sort of determination that confused Seamus - why did the boy care so much?

He realised that Kyle hadn’t the faintest idea of how to go about changing the bet, despite how simple it was. With a flicker of wariness in his voice, Seamus said, “Well, if that’s the case, all you need to do is say you’re changing the rules of the bet you made with me all those years ago, and then speak the changes aloud. If you mean it, it’ll change.”

“Okay, um…” Kyle briefly shifted from foot to foot. “I’m changing the rules of the bet we made six years ago. You still can’t cause harm or trouble to me, my family, or to anyone else, but you’re allowed to go where you will, whenever you want to.”

Nothing felt any different, and Seamus turned around and went back into the shack, tossing a handful of Lucky Charms into his mouth before dumping the rest in a spare plastic bag that he put in his pocket. The hope was still there inside of him. 

“Did it work?” Kyle asked hesitantly, still standing outside. 

“Well, there’s only one way to find out,” Seamus replied. He took his duffel bag, where he kept some clothing and any of his original belongings - that is, ones he hadn’t salvaged from the beach. “Cúchulainn.” He patted his thigh. The dog trotted after Seamus as they exited the shack.

“Where are you going?” Kyle asked.

“To see if I can get off this beach,” Seamus said without looking back. He kept walking, the wind catching at his jacket and ruffling his hair. Energy crackled through his veins, brought on by the hope and held-back excitement. Cúchulainn seemed to feel it as well; running ahead, tail wagging. 

Seamus reached what he had taken to calling the Barrier - the line he had often tried to pass, and always been unable to walk across. He stopped, watching Cúchulainn cross the line with ease. Then, before he could hesitate any more, Seamus lifted his foot and attempted to move forward.

And suddenly he was on the other side of the Barrier.

Time seemed to freeze, and he just stood there, staring first at his feet and then around at his surroundings. Six years, and he had never reached this point. And now, somehow he was, by some strange stroke of… well, luck.

“It worked!” Kyle exclaimed. 

“That it did…” Seamus murmured, turning in a slow circle. A slow grin spread across his face, and he took a few more steps forward. This wasn’t enough, and he dropped his bag with a laugh, outright dancing a short distance forward. He was free. He could go back to Ireland. Not right away - he didn’t have a passport. It had been left with his tour bus, wherever that had gone. But once he had one, he could catch a plane back home.

Cúchulainn barked, tail wagging furiously, and chased after Seamus, running in circles around him until he had to stop dancing for fear of tripping over the dog. He knelt down and scratched behind Cúchulainn’s ears. Then he went back and picked up his duffel bag. 

“Where are you going to go now?” Kyle asked, still trailing along behind.

Seamus felt he should probably be angry toward Kyle - and he was, considering six years of torment had been brought down on his head thanks to the boy - but right now, the joy of finally being free was far stronger. “Home, as soon as I get me passport back. Home, and I’m never coming back to this accursed country.”

“It takes a while to get a passport.”

“I’m aware,” Seamus retorted. He looked around as they moved away from the beach and into the city. It was about as ugly as the shores of the lake, which wasn’t overly surprising. He supposed it had some good things about it, but everything was compared to Ireland in his mind. 

Neither of them spoke for a while, and Seamus realised he had no idea where he was going. Should he stay at the shack until he got a passport, or go elsewhere? 

Kyle interrupted his thoughts with a suggestion. “I have a hotel room not too far from here. You’re welcome to stay there as long as you need.”

“Why would you let me?” Seamus asked. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll rob you blind?” His words were only half-sarcasatic.

“You can’t. The bet says you can’t cause any trouble for me or my family,” Kyle reminded him.

“Ah, that’s right,” Seamus said. He shot a sideways glance at Kyle, who had ended up walking alongside him. “Though really; why?”

Kyle met his gaze. “Because I owe you that much.”

Seamus nodded a bit, still studying Kyle’s eyes for any hint of dishonesty. He found none. “I’ll just take ye up on that offer then.”

Kyle smiled. “Great. This way.” He gestured down a road to their left.

After a while, Seamus found himself inside a small hotel room. Well, Kyle called it small, but it was by far larger than his shack. The only thing that bothered him is that animals weren’t allowed inside the hotel; so Cúchulainn had been left outside. He had sat down next to the building in such a patient manner. Seamus hated the idea that the dog was waiting for him to no avail, and decided he would go out and visit as soon as he could.

“I’m only staying until Tuesday, then I’m flying back home,” Kyle said, hanging his coat on a hook attached to the bathroom door. He seemed to hesitate, and then added, “You can come with me if you want, and if we can get you a ticket. Your bus is still back in town; no one ever touched it, and your associates never took it with them.”

Seamus shrugged, more preoccupied with the warm water in the sink - he hadn’t really experienced running water in ages. It was nice. 

Kyle apparently decided to leave him to it, because when Seamus finally looked up from the sink, the young man had disappeared. Unconcerned, Seamus belly flopped onto one of the beds, rubbing his cheek against the clean, soft sheets.

Then he sat up, frowning. He looked around the room, the frown deepening into a scowl before he got up and left the room. 

After a short while, he returned to the room with Cúchulainn. Some sneaking and a bit of flirting with the woman who caught him smuggling the dog in had been sufficient enough to get past the radar. 

Seamus took Cúchulainn into the bathroom to make sure he was clean, and then flopped down onto the bed again, burying his face in the pillow until he couldn’t breathe and needed to turn around. 

Kyle returned about an hour later to find a leprechaun fast asleep with his canine companion sprawled out at the foot of the bed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our characters finally leave Cleveland, much to Seamus' relief.

“Hey.” 

Seamus glanced away from the television set when Kyle walked in. “Aye?” 

The two of them had been sharing the hotel room for the last two days, and while neither of them would say that ‘friends’ was an applicable word, it was very clear that most animosity or fear had been cleared up between them. They’d even had a few conversations without it being too terribly awkward. 

Seamus still wasn’t quite ready to forgive Kyle for trapping him in Cleveland for so long; but he found that freedom made him too happy to hold onto his hatred for very long. Besides, now that he was older, the Kyle lad wasn’t quite as irritating. He was almost tolerable. 

“Here.” He set a slip of paper down on the night table by Seamus, who picked it up.

He looked at the paper, then flicked his eyes upward to look at Kyle, eyebrows raised. “This is a plane ticket, boyo.”

“Yeah, I know,” Kyle said. “You didn’t give me an answer when I asked you whether you wanted to come back home with me, so you could get your stuff out of your tour bus. So I made a decision myself.”

“If I were to say no, you’d be out quite a bit of money,” Seamus remarked, leaning back against the headboard and flipping the ticket across the fingers of one hand. 

“Yeah, I would,” Kyle said warily.

“Mm.” Seamus let the tense silence go on for a few moments longer and then said, “Lucky for you I don’t plan on refusing it.”

“Great,” Kyle said. 

Seamus could sense something - a bit of irritation, perhaps - beneath Kyle’s casual response, and decided to say the words Kyle had apparently expected. “Thank you, by the by.”

There it was, the faint flicker of a smile and the loosening of tense muscles. That had been what the boy wanted to hear. Seamus could understand why; tickets were expensive, and expressing gratitude was important. And he had genuinely meant the thanks, so he supposed it worked out for the both of them.

“We’re leaving tonight; if you have anything you want to get from the shack on the beach, you should probably go do that.” Kyle glanced at Cúchulainn, who was sleeping soundly in the corner. “You should also find a way to get him out of here. I’m shocked the maid hasn’t caught on yet.”

“Oh, she has,” Seamus replied. When he didn’t explain, Kyle gave him a searching look, so he continued. “I happened to be here when she came in to do her cleaning. She won’t be telling a soul about Cúchulainn.”

“What did you do?” Kyle asked, voice a bit sharper than usual.

“Oh, calm yourself, boyo,” Seamus said. “All it took was a bit of charm and a few desperate words to convince her to promise she wouldn’t let the secret out.”

Kyle sighed, kneading the bridge of his nose with two fingers. “It’s too bad the bet doesn’t keep you from flirting.”

“I’m glad it doesn’t, otherwise Cúchulainn here would be forced to stay outside and I would be less than overjoyed about that,” Seamus retorted, getting off the bed and shrugging on his leather jacket. “’twasn’t harming anyone. Just a few innocent compliments to a pretty lass, and the request she doesn’t say anything to get me parted from my dear old pup.”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “Fine. As long as no harm was done, I guess it’s fine. I hope your ealise though that the dog can’t ride with you on the plane. He needs to stay in a special area of the plane.”

“Aye, I know that. I’m not as dumb as you might think,” Seamus said. “Now if you’ll pardon me, I’m going to see if I can’t get him out of here without being noticed.” 

“You do that,” Kyle said. “I’m going to start packing.”

So Seamus embarked on his self-imposed quest while Kyle got ready to go back home - with the leprechaun his family had had so much trouble with in tow.

 

The flight was more or less uneventful. Seamus spent a good part of it staring out the window, lost in thought, except for when he was taking complimentary peanuts to snack on or buying soda to drink.

At one point, he wondered whether Cúchulainn was doing alright and got up to check. Unfortunately, the steward stopped him and would not be swayed, no matter what Seamus did (or said). 

So he returned to his seat and stayed there for the remainder of the flight, watching the clouds drift past beneath the plane and admiring the way the sun draped them in faded golden light. 

He must have fallen asleep near the end, because the next thing he knew, he was being shook awake by Kyle. “Hey. We’re here.”

Seamus looked at Kyle through half-lidded eyes, then nodded and got out of his seat, stretching - staying confined in such small places did not make him happy for many reasons, and the fact he had such long limbs was one of those reasons.

“Can I go fetch Cúchulainn now?” Seamus asked, taking his duffel bag from the overhead rack. 

“No,” Kyle replied. “I mean, you can, but you don’t just go back and get him. He’s in the cargo hold. They’ll bring him out for you. Let’s just get off the plane, and we’ll go find your dog.” He took his own suitccase from the overhead rack and started walking down the aisle. Seamus trailed along behind.

About an hour later, after the usual nonsense one had to go through before and after boarding a plane, Seamus was reunited with Cúchulainn. Once they had exited the airport, he knelt down and scratched behind the dog’s ears. “Hey there, lad.” Cúchulainn wagged his tail and licked Seamus’ face. He coughed, pushing the dog’s head away. “Now, now, I’m happy to see you too, boyo, but no kisses, understand.”

Then a woman’s voice - one he vaguely recognised called out. “Kyle!”

Seamus looked up just in time to see Kyle embrace - ah, fantastic. His mother. And just behind her stood Kyle’s father and friend (whom had changed just as much as Kyle had regarding appearance). 

After Kyle greeted both his parents, everyone suddenly became acutely aware they weren’t alone and turned their eyes to the lanky man standing a few yards away, a dog beside him. Seamus met them with a gaze of his own, taking great care to keep it neutral and unreadable.

“Kyle…” Russell said. “What is he doing here?” 

Seamus said nothing, waiting for Kyle to explain. The young man looked a bit uncomfortable, and Seamus wondered if he had expected to have to explain things so soon after getting off the plane. 

“His tour bus is here, and I thought I’d let him come back and retrieve some things,” Kyle replied.

“Kyle, what is he doing here in the first place?” Now it was Mr. Johnson’s turn to speak. “You do remember what happened the last time we saw him, right?”

“Look, Dad. He can’t mess with us anymore, he isn’t allowed,” Kyle responded. “All I did was erase the part of the bet that said he had to stay at Lake Erie forever. That’s all.”

“That’s all? That means he can go wherever he pleases now, and come back here whenever he feels like it,” Mr. Johnson protested. 

“Believe me, once I get back to Ireland, I don’t plan on ever coming back,” Seamus put in, trying to keep too much sarcasm from showing in his voice. He meant every word; he did not want to come back to America once he escaped. 

A brief silence fell, and Mr. Johnson looked to his wife, as though asking for her opinion. She didn’t say anything for a long time, but then fixed Seamus with a sharp look. “You can’t be hurting any of us, then?”

“No, I can’t. The bet keeps me from hurting you, stealing from you, or anything similar,” Seamus replied. “Come on then. Show a bit more faith in your dear son, why don’t you? D’you really think he would put his family in danger?” He raised both eyebrows. 

“Mom, Dad, I felt like it was the right thing to do,” Kyle said. “You always told me that if I thought something was wrong, I should try and make it right.”

There was silence, and Seamus knew that the lad had backed his parents into a corner. There wasn’t really any way they could argue with him now. A clever trick, and one that held more than enough truth.

“Fine,” Mr. Johnson said. “As long as you’re sure.”

Kyle nodded. “I am.” 

“Are you ready to go home, Kyle?” Mrs. Johnson asked. 

Seamus tuned out the conversation at that point. He could sense the Russell boy staring at him with an untrusting gaze, and opted to ignore that as well. 

Then Kyle’s voice was breaking him out of his thoughts. “Seamus. I’m on my way home right now. Mom and Dad said they can give you a ride somewhere if you want it.” 

Seamus glanced around. “No, don’t let them trouble themselves. The weather’s nothing terrible; I can walk just fine meself.”

“It’s a couple miles to where your bus is,” Kyle said hesitantly. “Are you sure?”

“Aye. Six years on that beach. A bit of new air will do me good,” Seamus replied. He paused. “Thank you again, by the by.” 

“You’re welcome.” Kyle hesitated, then held out his hand. 

Seamus looked at it for a moment, then reached out and shook the boy’s hand. Then Kyle turned and followed his family toward a car parked across the street. Seamus watched them go, some sort of emotion he dismissed as unimportant flickering through him. Then he looked down at Cúchulainn. “Let’s you and I get going then, shall we?” 

Cúchulainn gave a quiet sort of bark, wagging his tail. Seamus patted him on the head and picked up his duffel bag. A few moments later, he and his new companion were on their way yet again, to wherever their adventure led them next.


End file.
